I am a cranky old woman.

At 1:45 this morning when the fireworks were still going off across the street (and this is the third night in a row) I googled the Newport Police Non-Emergency Phone line. Wrote it on a piece of notepaper and slammed shut my window.

Slamming shut the window just doesn't work as well with a sliding window as I had hoped. The wooooosh isn't a bang and it just isn't the same.

Okay, so I couldn't quite get myself to call the police, but I now know the number.

I justified that they were probably on short staff for the holiday and probably getting a lot of more important calls. Also I couldn't quite say who was setting off the fireworks from the the small crack between my mini blinds and sincerely I was tired. Calling them would take more effort than it was worth and what if they wanted me to press charges? Just because I'm cranky doesn't mean I want the whole neighborhood to know this. (I'm positive they don't read the blog.)

Just because they were being inconsiderate, wasn't that a bit of a eye for an eye if I called the police to arrest them for illegal fireworks? (Okay so they probably would only get a warning but still...would they retalliate? I just didn't want to find out.)

Alas, my bedroom was filled with the acrid smell of firework smoke anyhow now so I slammed shut the bedroom door, got out the air mattress I use when company comes to town, and made enough noise to warrant my neighbors calling the police on me blowing the darn thing up.

But I felt so much better after my pity party and temper tantrum. And the last thing I heard, just as I turned out the light, was a firecracker going off.

I left the air mattress blown up because I have a feeling the fun has just begun.